The Perfect Gift
by Gwendolyn James
Summary: She would kill him if he messed up again. Unfortunately, he was quite sure that he would, indeed, mess up. One-shot.


Disclaimer: Ron is mine, I tell you! ALL MINE!

A/N: This one is dedicated to those wonderful shippers over at the HMS BP - I love you guys! And another one for Seren, who practially wrote all the funny lines in this one... you give me the best ideas!

* * *

Ron was in a pickle.

Not that he should be surprised. This happened every year.

She would kill him if he messed up again. Unfortunately, he was quite sure that he would, indeed, mess up.

It would be so much easier if she wasn't a girl. Honestly. Then he wouldn't have to agonize over this. He could just go down to Quality Quidditch Supplies and pick something off the shelf. He wouldn't even have to wrap it.

But no. No, no, no. She just _had_ to be a girl. And not just _any_ girl, mind you, but Hermione Granger, Best Friend _and_ Girlfriend.

She made things so complicated, and he had a sneaking suspicion that she knew this and enjoyed every minute of it.

Which is why he was here today, throwing his last shred of dignity down the toilet.

"Harry, can I have a word?"

Harry looked up from the chess board. "Sure, mate. What is it?"

Ron cast a glance at his sister. "Er, Gin? Do you mind?"

Ginny stuck out her tongue at him and moved her knight across the board. "Of course I mind! I'm actually winning! There's no way that I'm leaving the room so he can take the advantage and cheat!"

"Fine," Ron huffed. He sat down on the sofa and glared at his sister. "You might as well hear this, too. I mean, you're a girl, and girls are useful at this sort of thing."

"Oh, thanks, Ron. I appreciate that."

"Aw, you know what I mean."

She rolled her eyes. "So get on with it, then."

Harry was looking at him curiously, so Ron felt it would be prudent to get it over with before they changed their minds. "I need help."

Ginny laughed. "Well, that's an established fact."

"Shut up, _Ginevra_."

"Don't call me that, _Ronald_."

Harry put up a hand. "What do you need help with, Ron?"

"I need help deciding what to get Hermione for Christmas."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Why would _I_ know what to get Hermione? I don't even know what to get _you_."

Ron sighed. "Great. Just marvelous. She's going to kill me. I'm talking cold-blooded murder."

Ginny grinned. "Why don't you just get her another bottle of perfume?"

"That's not a bad idea."

"I was joking, Ron! Don't you dare get her perfume again!"

He frowned. "What was wrong with it?"

Harry laughed. "You mean, other than the fact that it smelled like a dying Thestral?"

"How many dying Thestrals have you smelled?" Ron retorted.

"A cave troll, then. Either way, completely revolting."

Ron scowled. "She said it was interesting."

Harry grinned. "Actually, I think she said it was _unusual._"

"In other words," Ginny added, "it was absolutely wretched."

"Oh, perfect. So now I _really_ have to get her something good – I have to make up for the previous one!"

"Previous _two_, actually," Ginny countered. "Don't forget last year's disaster."

"What was wrong with _that_ one?"

"Ron! You bought her a copy of _Hogwarts, A History_!"

Ron frowned. "So? What's your point?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "It was incredibly impersonal, _that's_ what! Good gods, Ron! You're such an idiot sometimes! I'm surprised she didn't dump you when she opened it!"

"Impersonal? How was that impersonal? It's her favorite book, for the love of Merlin! I figured her old copy was a bit worn out!"

Ron tried to ignore the fact that Ginny was now doubled over in a fit of giggles. He turned to Harry instead. "What do _you_ think?"

Harry shrugged. "I think she's right, mate. You've definitely got to do better this year."

"Well, now that we've determined _that_, are you two going to help me or not?"

* * *

They were useless. Completely useless.

Ginny had giggled herself into a stomachache, and Harry had just given him one pathetic idea after another.

So here he was again, completely stuck and running out of time. Five days until Christmas, and Hermione had been dropping not-so-subtle hints that she was expecting something wonderful this year.

Unfortunately, he was rather lacking in the wonderful department.

It was the first time he'd ever regretted asking Hermione to be his girlfriend. Well, okay, not _seriously_, but things would certainly be easier if she could just go back to being a regular girl.

Alright, fine – he didn't want her to be a regular girl. He loved having her as his girlfriend. He only wished that she would _tell_ him what she wanted for Christmas so he didn't have to guess. He just wasn't good at this sort of thing.

The only thing he'd done right so far was manage to sneak into Hogsmeade with Harry's Invisibility Cloak. It was the only place he would even have a _chance_ to find something good enough for her.

He stopped in front of another window display and looked at it sadly. Nothing there, either. There was no way he could buy her a new set of quills and get away with it. He swore under his breath and moved on down the street, hoping that something would catch his eye.

An hour later, he was still wandering. The snow was falling more heavily now, and his fingers felt frozen and stiff. He needed to take a break. Pushing open the door to The Three Broomsticks, he took a seat at an empty table and shook the snow from his hair.

"What can I get for you, love?"

Ron looked up at Madam Rosmerta and sighed. "Got any ideas for an amazing Christmas present?"

She grinned. "Girlfriend's expecting something great, is she?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "and I'm completely clueless."

"Well, what sorts of things does she like?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno. Books, mostly."

"So get her a book," Rosmerta suggested.

"Can't," Ron sighed, defeated again. "Got her a book last year and it went over like a lead balloon. Too _impersonal_, apparently."

Rosmerta laughed. "It's the thought that counts, isn't it?"

"Dunno about that."

"Of course it is," she replied. "She loves you, doesn't she?"

He thought about that for a moment. "I guess she does."

"And you love her?"

"Yeah," he grinned slowly. "Yeah, I do."

"Well then! That's all there is to it!"

His grinned turned into a look of confusion. "What is?"

Rosmerta laughed again. "Believe me, love – all your girl wants for Christmas is for you to do something from the heart. She doesn't care about expensive gifts – she just wants you."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"'Course I'm sure. If she's the girl you think she is, she'll love whatever you get her, because it's from _you_."

* * *

Ron knew he was going to put a hole in the rug if he didn't stop pacing, but he couldn't help it. What if this was all wrong? What if she hated it?

What if she laughed in his face?

Oh, for the love of Merlin. Why had he listened to Madam Rosmerta in the first place? _From the heart._ Ha! He should have bought her a bloody book and been done with it. But no, he had to go and do something stupid like this.

Was it too late to forget about it?

Yes. _Yes_, of course it was. He didn't have a backup plan. It was either this or nothing at all, and nothing was _not_ a good idea.

_Why_ in the _world_ had he listened to that crazy woman?

Okay, he had to admit that this wasn't entirely her idea, but she had planted the thought in his mind, and in his stupidity, he had blown it way out of proportion. This was going to be a complete disaster – he knew it. He should just give up now and tell Hermione that her present was on it's way... No. No, no, no. She would kill him, he had no doubt.

And, of course, there was that teensy, tiny bit of him that actually _wanted_ to do it, actually _wanted_ to make a fool of himself and give her this gift.

Alright, so it was more than just a teensy, tiny bit. It was a humongous, _gigantic_ bit. He _wanted_ to do this. He wanted it more than anything.

Maybe she would love it. Maybe she wouldn't laugh in his face.

Maybe there was hope.

And so he paced. He paced until his legs felt like jelly and his hands were shaking, though most of that was probably from nervousness and not from the fact that he'd been walking in a circle for the past half hour.

"Ron?"

He spun around. "Hermione, hi." _Oh, brilliant, Ron. Really witty._

She didn't seem to notice that his brain and mouth weren't connected. "Happy Christmas." She grinned at him and he could have sworn that his heart was no longer a solid object in his chest. "I got you something."

She held out a large wrapped box and he took it with trembling hands, peeling back the wrapping paper. He could feel her smiling eyes upon him – she was practically bursting with excitement.

His jaw dropped when he saw what it was. "Hermione... I can't believe it! Wow! It's... it's... how? How did you get this?"

She was literally bouncing up and down with happiness. "It's signed by every member of the Cannons! I wrote them a really long letter about how my boyfriend is their biggest fan and how he would just _love_ to have a signed Quaffle, and they actually sent me one! It came yesterday – I was getting so worried that it wouldn't come, but then..."

He cut off her words with a kiss. "Thank you, Hermione. It's wonderful. I love it. I really do. Thank you."

She beamed at him, pleased beyond words. He loved when she was happy.

He hoped this would make her happy too.

The grin faded from his face as his heart picked up speed. It was now or never.

"I... I got you something too."

"Oh, Ron, really?" Like she wasn't expecting it.

He took a deep breath and pulled her gift out of the pocket of his robes. "Yeah, I did. I hope... I hope you like it."

"Of course I'll like it!" She smiled up at him and held out her hand. "May I open it?" He could see that she was trying not to laugh.

"Oh, right. Right, sorry." He held out the small package and waited nervously as she opened the paper to reveal a small black box.

"Ron, what..." She opened the box and gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh... oh my... Ron... Ron? What...?"

"I spent weeks just trying to figure out what to get you, but nothing seemed right. Nothing was good enough for you."

She just looked at him, completely speechless.

"But when I saw this, I just knew... I knew it was right. I knew it was what I wanted."

"Ron..." He saw the tears in her eyes and prayed that they were happy tears. Everything rested on what those tears meant. He had to take that risk. He just _had_ to.

"Hermione, I'm asking you..." He swallowed around the lump in his throat and took her hand in his. "I'm asking you to marry me."

She burst into tears. Loud, racking sobs, actually.

_Oh, help._

"Hermione, please... please. I know we're young, but we're graduating this year, and I really think... no, I _know_ that this is right. I love you, Hermione, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

She smiled up at him through her tears. "Ron... Ron, I love you so much!" She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him until he thought he'd choke.

"'Mione," he gasped, "I can't... breathe..."

"Sorry." She stepped back with a laugh and held out the little black box. "Will you?"

He grinned, took the diamond ring from its box, and slid it onto her finger. "I love you, Hermione, and you still haven't given me an answer. Marry me?"

"Yes. Yes, Ron, yes! A million times yes."

Her kiss was the best gift he could have ever asked for.

* * *

A/N: Squeeee! Happy Christmas fluffiness! Okay, so it's only October, but do I really care? Not so much. My brain is befuddled with fever and I am overloaded with chicken soup and Tylenol... wheeee! So please please please review and make me feel so much better! 


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